My Number One
Kasha & Knox #1
By Janice Ross
Publication Date: September 1, 2016
Publisher: Blu Savant Press
Cover Design: Mayhem Cover Creations
Genre: NA Romance
Two friends. Two lovers.
Dark pasts. Uncertain futures.
Mindless passion. Wondrous pain.
One remarkable love. One powerful
friendship torn apart in a seemingly unending battle. This is Knox Jackson and
Kasha Davies' story about the cost of being number one.
Kindle Unlimited
Kasha
~
Knox was five weeks away from
getting married to another girl.
Only. Five. Weeks.
Yet for the first time in four
long years, I found myself easing up on the tip of my toes and extending my
arms around his broad neck.
Let me make this clear.
We’ve never come this close to
being one. Our collective past was filled with never: never kissed, never
snuggled, and certainly never crossed that line. How could we have gotten here?
One minute we were simply friends
. . .
And bam!
Who was I kidding? Simply
friends?
Neither of us made any attempts
to pull back. Between the panting and irrational groping, we’d journeyed miles
beyond a line that friends should never cross.
I exhaled as he took in the very
essence of me. All that I was capable of feeling, knowing, seeing or tasting
was Knox. I became lost in a fog, buried deep in a world that sought to rub me
out. Because, with him, I could no longer exist on my own. I had to be able to
dive into everything that was Knox Jackson. The passion . . . electricity . . .
energies were beyond lit. It had always existed, lurked in the darkness for an
opportunity to explode. Or rather, in our case, implode.
So why today?
Why did I decide to give in to
the emotional pull that had always been guiding us together? And why did Knox
decide to not hold strong to the fact that he was about to become a married
man?
I tried. I promise you, I tried
not to inhale the sensational cologne that had come to represent this
ridiculous need. But it was beyond that. Every single sense perked up whenever
he was near. Hell, forget about our proximity now, since there was no longer a
distance.
Knox’s tongue slid across his
lips. I darn well tasted it’s juicy goodness. Even the thrusts had to be
strong, I could just about feel its force between my upper lips, lashing
against the nipples of my 34-B cup breasts, and even inching up between my
thighs. Every ounce of reasoning scolded me for wanting this, even as every bit
of the same had me convinced of this time as a necessity. It was like the
portion of an old show I once saw where the devil sat at one side on the
shoulder and an angel perched on the other.
“Kash, please . . .” Knox begged.
The words were elongated whispers that cuddled my body, only to ride me from
head to toe.
Knox’s silky, chocolate-colored
cropped hair flowed through my fingers. I yanked. Not just simply pulled or
gently tugged. I wanted him more than a little. He reacted by burrowing his
head against my neck. I allowed my lids to drift shut as Knox’s firm hands
gripped my backside. He drew me up and into him. Our mouths collided, and about
two seconds later, our tongues locked. This wasn’t just passion, not with the
way our tongues demanded absolutely everything of the other. There was a greedy
type of exchange taking place. The hunger flowing from between us was capable
of taking away all strength.
There we were, two friends,
clinging in a desperate embrace, while fondling and grappling for dear life. At
that moment, in this time, only he and I existed. We’d fought long to avoid
this inevitable faith, yet here we were. While it pained me to know that I was
capable of impeding on someone else’s world in this way, I didn’t know how to
let him go now that the world had started making sense. My eyes stung the more
I fought to subdue the tears. They wanted to pour out from me, but I couldn’t
let them. I squeezed as long as possible, until tiny drops began trickling down
my cheeks. All this as I continued to take in the wild thrusts of Knox’s tongue
inside of my mouth.
“We shouldn’t . . .” I somehow
managed to mumble against his mouth, but our passion overpowered all
objections. The tears continued to burn at my eyes; I badly wanted to cry for
every instance I’d refused to accept the truth. My insides ached with a
yearning to get away from and give in to him all at once.
“I need you,” Knox spat out like
a bitter curse, sending a tiny flow of his saliva to the tip of my nose. These
weren’t our words; this topic was certainly not one for two casual friends with
nothing more than a solid respect and dedication. “Shit, love . . .” He was
beyond angry. I held the anger, making it penetrate my mind. I couldn’t allow
the moment or his declaration to control me, even as we merged.
But love?
I gasped, but didn’t let go. Even
tried willing my body to step away, turn and run. I had to forget that I’d ever
come to adore a man named Knox Jackson. Sadly, the commands became mute, feeble
attempts. Touching Knox, digging my fingers into his defined biceps didn’t
help. Inhaling his essence—the scent that marked his manliness—only reminded me
that our energies had first connected four years ago.
“Knox,” I fumbled out as the
syllables ricocheted across every inch of my already sensitive limbs. Damn!
Simply saying his name had me tingly between my legs. “No . . .” I cried out,
and let the tears flow. I wound up my head, while trying to arch away. My waist
wiggled; I felt rotten and downright trashy, but I didn’t give two shits. I
only wanted . . . needed him to feel me.
I was beyond a mess of a
desperate woman. I choked at the thought of me. Yes, me, Kasha Davies shoving
my stuff on some guy. So I let up and pulled back as much as I could. His arms
wouldn’t allow it. He groped, squeezing like I was no longer a want, but
instead an integral part of existence.
In the midst of this uncertainty,
I shoved my hips forward then back, right then left. Knox had no choice but to
break the hold and start lowering me to the ground. For a brief second I felt
bare, like I’d been stripped down to nothing. And that quickly, without an
explanation, I hopped up. I went from chilly, to warm, and finally hot. My head
spun, so much so that as I plopped on the ground. I needed to lean back into
him. My head pressed against his chest. His heartbeat penetrated the side of my
face. I hung onto the quickening pace, desperate to feel beyond his cotton tee.
His arms drew me in, forcing me to only rely on this remarkable shelter. It
wasn’t that he was a large, muscular guy or anything. Knox’s arms were cut, but
it was enough to be desirable; yet less overbearing.
He exhaled, jolting me out of the
fantasy world I’d drifted into. No, we weren’t in a utopian society. No, I was
not his. No, he . . . he couldn’t be mine.
Janice Ross was born in Guyana,
South America and migrated to the USA in 1980. Although her citizenship
certificate now reads the United States of America, she considers herself a
citizen of the world. Sure she has not physically been around the world and
back, but she’s travelled in her mind and dreams.
Janice enjoys Zumba, Kickboxing, and most exercise classes. When she's not pushing her physical limits, Janice spends time working on her craft, as well as lending a hand to other aspiring writers.
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That book cover has definitely sold me!! I want it, NOW!!! :)
ReplyDeleteGreat excerpt!! I'm soooo hooked. :)
ReplyDelete